


Desolation

by Selenese



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Dark Character, Domestic Violence, F/M, Forced Relationship, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 08:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13760604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenese/pseuds/Selenese
Summary: She had watched horrified as the new king flung T’Challa’s limp body over the waterfall’s ledge, sending him hurdling into the violent depths below. Nakia then remembered the way that his eyes had fixed on her, the way his lips curled into an evil, frightening smile.“And her,” he demanded, “After the ceremony, bring her to me.”Warning: Dark fic. Erik Killmonger/Nakia.





	Desolation

Nakia was being led through the grand hallways of the Wakandan royal palace. Her hands were bound together behind her back and two of W’Kabi’s troops were flanked at her sides. Nakia forced a neutral expression upon her face despite the heaviness weighing in her heart.  
T’Challa was dead.  
She had watched horrified as the new king flung T’Challa’s limp body over the waterfall’s ledge, sending him hurdling into the violent depths below. It had all happened so quickly. She only remembered the shrill screams of Queen Romonda as the woman watched her only son be thrown to his death. Her sweet T’Challa, before the battle he had seemed anxious to talk to her but she had rejected his advances. His warm brown eyes held hers gently before he dipped his head and bid her farewell, ever respectful of her wishes. Guilt coiled in her belly. How she wished that she could see him now, to throw her arms around his neck and declare her love for him.  
Nakia forced away the tears brimming in her eyes.  
She had not seen Shuri or Queen Romonda since T’Challa’s death. Erik had ordered the Wakandan army to detain them, and that they be moved to an undisclosed location. Nakia then remembered the way that his eyes had fixed on her, the way his lips curled into an evil, frightening smile.  
_“And her,” he demanded, “After the ceremony, bring her to me.”_  
Nakia felt a shudder run through her body. What did he mean? What could he possibly want with her? Her eyes flickered between the guards and her mind entertained the idea of launching a surprise attack. By now, Okoye and the Dora Milaje would be strategically placed around the palace, ready to defend Erik and carry out his will, as well as to stop anyone from entering, or leaving. Nakia fidgeted uncomfortably, her arms beginning to ache from their restraints. Surely they would allow her to escape? They were her friends! However, Nakia had noticed the look of fierce loyalty that had come over Okoye’s eyes when Erik had ascended the throne.  
_“Erik Killmonger is our king now,” she had told her, her grip around her spear tightened. Her eyes were glazed over from grief, but her stance remained proud and at attention, “I will continue to serve my country just as I always have.” Okoye fixed her with a dark, threatening stare, “And I suggest that you do so as well, Nakia.”_  
The two hulking guards led her to the massive doors outside of the throne room. The beautiful tribal prints that decorated the door’s exterior brought back a wave of nostalgia. How many times had she walked through these same doors to see T’Challa? How many times had she been free to wander the palace without guards looming menacingly nearby?  
One of the guards reached behind her to remove the vibranium cuffs binding her wrists, while the other reached towards the doors to knock once.  
“Enter.”  
The doors to the grand throne room opened slowly, and Nakia’s breath caught in her throat.  
He was a massive and terrible figure, perched there on the throne that just hours ago had belonged to her beloved. He donned a collared, black, long sleeved dashiki with golden trim and black trousers. Instead of the traditional footwear, on his feet she recognized U.S. Army combat boots. Nakia could see the rippling of his muscles through his clothing, and when he caught her staring he flashed her a toothy grin.  
“Leave us,”  
The two troops saluted their king and turned on their heels, disappearing through the doors behind her.  
Nakia remained silent, staring questionably at the man before her. They remained like that for some time, both stubborn and neither refusing to look away. Nakia noticed that the wound on his face from his battle with T'Challa had healed over, most likely a result from his newly acquired powers.  
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke.  
“Nakia, is it?”  
She lifted her head proudly, straightening her posture as she refused to be intimidated by this man.  
“Correct. Why have you summoned me?”  
He rolled his neck arrogantly, swiveling his shoulders until a satisfying pop resounded throughout the royal chambers. He flashed a smirk at her, all sharp canines and gold teeth gleaming brightly in the dimly lit room.  
“Well, _Nicky_ , since I’m the king now that means that I’m entitled to everything T’Challa had,” he gestured toward her, “And that means _everything_.”  
Nakia scowled, immediately understanding the hidden meaning behind his words. She reeled back in disgust, fists clenched at her sides.  
“H-how dare you?” she seethed, “If you lay one disgusting little finger on me it will be the last thing you ever do!”  
Erik’s eyes darkened, and a look of rage came over his face.  
“Nah,” he sneered, “See, I’m gonna need you to change your tone when you speak to me,” he said. “T’Challa may have allowed that shit, but I’m not him. You better address your king with respect.”  
Nakia could feel the anger boiling in her blood.  
“King?” she spat, “You are undeserving of such a title. T’Challa honored the true principles and traditions of Wakanda. We are a peaceful nation. You wish to use our knowledge and technology for evil, for vengeance! You are no king!”  
He rose from his throne and was standing in front of her in three, short strides. He towered over her petite frame, and Nakia had to take a step back in order to look up at him. Erik reached forward to tightly grip her chin in his hand. He glared down at her, his dark eyes flickering between brown and gold.  
“Actually, _Nicky_ ,” he growled, “I won. Fair and square. You were there.” He places a hand on his chest, the muscles of his arms flexing through his sleeves. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips as his eyes take in the delicate features of her face. She’s beautiful, so tiny, yet strong and stubborn in her own right. He growls low in his throat, wishing to devour her where she stands.  
Erik fixes her with a stare then, his eyes burrow into her and she cannot help but flinch away.  
“You got fire girl,” he says, amused, “I like that. T’Challa couldn’t handle you. He was a little bitch, everyone knew that.”  
Enraged, Nakia yanks her chin from his grasp, her fist flying forward in an effort to connect with his face. Her eyes widen as he catches her fist, completing dwarfing her smaller hand with his own.  
“Now, Shorty,” he whispers, barking out a laugh at the mixture of disgust and fear that came over her face. “How about you bring your little ass over here and try that again?”

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: (Warning: This fanfic is DARK. )
> 
> First Black Panther fic. I saw the movie opening weekend and I couldn't help but think what would happen if Erik ascended the throne and was able to carry out his plans? I also see him as having a bit of an obsession with besting T'Challa and taking everything that he once had as his own-including his ex, Nakia. Please leave feedback and comment! It really motivates me to update sooner if I know that people like the story.


End file.
